Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Bhutan and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Raincoats to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eden Ahbez record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Leaves record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
MC5,
Adolescents,
Magma,
Eurythmics,
The Mummies,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultimate Spinach,
Steve Hackett,
Television Personalities,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Davy DMX,
Arcadia,
Absolute Body Control,
Joyce Sims,
The Remains,
The Grass Roots,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
the Slits,
Brass Construction,
the Sonics,
The Five Americans,
Sam Rivers,
Intrusion,
Y Pants,
Altered Images,
Angry Samoans,
Easy Going,
Outsiders,
Pylon,
Barbara Tucker,
A Certain Ratio,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sight & Sound,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sixth Finger,
Black Pus,
Bush Tetras,
The Move,
Animal Collective,
Bobby Womack,
Quando Quango,
The Fugs,
Au Pairs,
Robert Görl,
The Pretty Things,
Ten City,
The Dead C,
F. McDonald,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wally Richardson,
Mark Hollis,
Unwound,
Pole,
Rapeman,
Slave,
Barrington Levy,
Pulsallama,
MDC,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kayak,
Khruangbin,
Silicon Teens,
June Days, June Days, June Days, June Days.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.